


our little vignette

by golden_redhead



Series: Oumota Week 2019 [2]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Arranged Marriage, Domestic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Wedding, talent swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-25 00:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: [Ch. 5: Domestic]---“We could play a game and whoever loses goes to take care of this.”“What kind of game?”“Dunno,” Kaito offers a half-shrug, eyebrow furrowing in thought, face scrunching up as he sorts through the possible options. “How about rock paper scissors?”_Kokichi and Kaito deal with their problems like the adults they supposedly are.





	1. Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I was the organizer of this year's Oumota Week and since I was so busy with the organization and my personal life I am a bit late with my own works. As you can see, the first chapter is called 'Wedding' which was actually the prompt for the last day of the week but since I still haven't finished all of my fics for now I'll be posting them out of order to make it easier for me. Once I finish writing all of the prompts and upload them all here I'll re-arrange everything so that they match the correct days of the Oumota Week. 
> 
> And yes. Yes, I am planning to write all 15 of them. Yes, I am insane.

“Ouma! Where the hell did he—oh, thank god, there you are.”

Kokichi doesn’t move from his spot, leaning over the balustrade and observing the flickering lights of the party below in the gardens, the soft breeze playing with the long strands of dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. This high he can hear the hushed conversations of their guests, laughing and dancing, drinking toast after toast — for their united kingdoms, for no more wars, for his new-found love. 

Love. 

Love is a laughable concept in a world like this, a luxury most cannot afford, regardless of how many coins lay in their chambers. No, Kokichi was fairly young when he realized love is a valuable currency that can decide the future for generations to come, used to both unite and divide. Marriage was a powerful weapon, one that tended to be underestimated by those who couldn’t grasp its full power. But people like his mother, oh, they knew just how to make things play out in their favor, how to win a losing game, casualties be damned. 

This time it just so happened that he was one of those casualties. 

It doesn’t really come as a surprise, he’s always known how vile and wicked his mother could be, but given everything, he really thinks that he deserves to be at least a little bit resentful about the whole ordeal. Celestia Ludenberg is a cunning creature by nature and it does not come as a surprise that she would use her own son as a trump card. Admittedly, it’s not like Kokichi wasn’t well aware that his mother wouldn’t hesitate to feed him to the wolves if it happened to fit her current agenda. If anything, he’s surprised it took her this long.

“Oi, you hear me?” Kaito’s voice seeps in through the murmur of his thoughts, intrusive and expectant, bordering on annoying. 

Kokichi groans exaggeratedly, finally turning to face him, a condescending look crossing his face as he regards Kaito with as much irritation as he could utter. 

“It’d be hard not to hear you. Your voice could wake up the dead.” He giggles into his hand as the idea crosses his mind. “I bet waking up to that would make anyone wish they could die twice.”

Kaito’s brows furrow in a deep frown and he looks like he wants to bark out some kind of remark but seems to think better of it.

“We should get going, we’re gonna be called for our first dance soon,” he informs him impatiently instead.

Kokichi hums softly, looking up at Kaito over the rim of the glass he grips tightly in his hand, the deep, dark reds of the wine sloshing slightly inside. 

“Dunno, they seem to be doing juuust fine without us,” he comments, throwing another look at the colorful crowd of nobles and monarchs gathered under the balcony of his room. For all he knows, they couldn’t care less about whether the main attractions of the event are there or not. Their wedding is nothing more than a formality and half of the people invited for the celebration would pay good money for their heads on a silver platter. 

“Ouma—“

“Shouldn’t you call me by my name,” questions Kokichi, taking a sip of his wine, the drink tart on his lips. “People might get suspicious, you know. I am your beloved, after all. Why so formal?”

Kaito frowns, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck absentmindedly. He looks to the side, as if considering his words. 

“I guess, yeah,” he says finally. “It just feels weird. We don’t really know each other and yet here we are… Married!”

He chuckles nervously, as if he can’t believe it himself, and in other circumstances maybe Kokichi would have enjoyed it, seeing the prince from the enemy nation getting all uncomfortable and struggling to voice his real thoughts in those rare moments when there are no curious eyes following their every step, forcing them into a game of pleasant conversations and pretend affections. 

But the man in front of him is no longer the prince of the enemy nation, from now on they are supposed to lead a nation of their own and join the ruthless political game with no rules and no guidelines, bearing the responsibility for every soul that had the misfortune of being born under their rule. 

Disgusting. 

Everything about this situation is simply disgusting and so Kokichi puts on the sweetest smile and gets ready for the performance of a lifetime. 

He tilts his head back, exposing the white column of his neck adorned with a thin gold necklace that catches the light whenever he moves his head and batting his eyelashes with practiced sultriness. He looks nothing shy of scandalous in his rich red dress, lipstick smudged over his lips and the corset embroidered with gold thread hugging his narrow waist tightly. His clothing is a statement, albeit a subtle one, a quiet provocation meant for the chosen few. If someone were to ask he’d simply tilt his head innocently and pretend he’s merely wearing the shades of their emblem with pride and regard of traditions, just as expected from a prince. 

Judging by the furious, cold glares Celeste sends him whenever their eyes meet — she knows exactly what he’s doing, she catches the quiet intent behind his actions. The thought of getting under her skin ignites something rebellious and giddy in his stomach, a small consolation prize after he’s lost the war. He couldn’t stop the marriage, couldn’t prevent any of this from happening, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to go without a fight, not when there are still smaller battles to win. For now, he’s kind only on paper but he does not intend for it to stay that way forever.

“We really should get going,” presses Kaito again. “We are expected in the coronation room shortly.” 

Kokichi sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Well, since you already went through all the trouble of putting this ring on my finger,” he lifts his arm, showing off the amethyst adorning his pale finger, reflecting the lights seeping from inside the ballroom. “I suppose I can’t say no, can I?” 

“I guess not,” Kaito offers him a one-shoulder shrug. And then, as if hoping for a friendly conversation, one they’ve never had before, he adds: “Man, I can’t wait for this night to be over so I can just go to sleep and fucking rest.”

“That’s an interesting choice of words,” chirps Kokichi, smirking into his glass. 

“Huh?” Kaito sends him a confused look. “Why?” 

“Ohhh,” Kokichi perks up with interest, giggling gleefully, “has my dear husband forgotten what night we have today?”

“Uhh… What night?” Kaito asks unintelligibly. 

Kokichi’s at his side seconds later, sensually wrapping himself around his arm, half-lidded and accented with gold shadows, eyes twinkling in the dim light. A deep blush crawls on Kaito’s cheeks at the sudden proximity between them, staining them with a red tint. Kokichi’s hand sneaks to wrap around the tie wrapped loosely around Kaito’s neck, and he tugs at the velvety material, pulling Kaito closer, close enough that his breath ghosts over Kaito’s lips in a phantom kiss.

“It’s the night when we get to consummate our love,” Kokichi purrs sweetly, relishing in the choked up half-gasp and half-yelp Kaito rewards him with and the warmth radiating from his face. “Aren’t you excited, my beloved?”

He gives Kaito a moment to sputter and flush and fumble with some needless, weak protests as much as he wants, using the moment as an excuse to steal another sip of his wine, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he regards his new husband with a critical look. 

Now, one of the admittedly not many good things about his forced union with Kaito is that he’s good looking. Ridiculously good looking, in fact. Kokichi isn’t sure if he would ever handle being forced into tying a knot with one of those sickeningly disgusting noble men Celeste so enjoyed gambling with. An easy win, she would call them with some kind of sick, twisted satisfaction, sending him a knowing wink over her shoulder moments before she would lead them to her bed chambers. 

Kokichi may not be her biological son but she’s taught him well, every well-thought little trick, every perfected tactic to wrap people around her dainty little finger. How to look, how to smile, how to speak, how to _lie_. How to enchant people with nothing but his voice, how to twist and shift words into something much more entrancing than any truth could ever be. 

With Kaito, though… He isn’t sure if any of it will be necessary. 

He lets his eyes rest on Kaito for a moment, take in every sharp curve of his jaw, the strong contour of his nose, the soft mauve of his eyes set on a surprisingly expressive face. He can’t quite place what is this feeling that settles low in his gut and stirs slightly whenever his eyes drift to Kaito, whenever their hands brush against each other from how close they are forced to stand when in public. It’s nice, though. Surprisingly nice, warm and pleasant, something he hasn’t ever really felt before. 

He slips his hand into Kaito’s, almost startled by how warm, how soft it feels, and forces a little more natural, a little more genuine smile on his lips.

“Well, I suppose we shouldn’t keep my dear mother waiting, right?”

Kaito’s head jerks in a nod, grateful for the change of subject.

Kokichi squeezes his hand and giggles, softly. 

“Lead the way then!”


	2. Talent Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You would make a hooorrible supreme leader, you know?” says Kokichi one rainy day, apropos of nothing. 
> 
> He’s lying on their little couch, still in the sleepy haze, all limp limbs outstretched in every direction and soft blankets, tucked under his chin as he lazes around since the early morning, too sluggish to even move a finger.
> 
> Kaito snorts next to him, turning the page of his book lazily, shooting him a brief glance until his eyes go back to the text before him. “Good thing I’m not planning on becoming one then.”

“You would make a hooorrible supreme leader, you know?” says Kokichi one rainy day, apropos of nothing. 

He’s lying on their little couch, still in the sleepy haze, all limp limbs outstretched in every direction and soft blankets, tucked under his chin as he lazes around since the early morning, too sluggish to even move a finger.

Kaito snorts next to him, turning the page of his book lazily, shooting him a brief glance until his eyes go back to the text before him. “Good thing I’m not planning on becoming one then.”

Kokichi puffs out his cheeks, nudging him with one of his outstretched legs, demanding his attention like a particularly displeased cat. “Kai-chan doesn’t understand,” he protests, whiny. “You would be like reaaally bad at it. The worst!” 

“Huh,” Kaito blinks, thoughtful. “Is that so?”

Kokichi nods his head vigorously. 

He attempts to nudge him again but to his utmost surprise, Kaito catches his leg and before he could protest, he already runs fingers run over the sensitive underside of his bare foot, Kaito relishing in the surprise that flashes through his face at the ticklish sensation.

Kokichi lets out a very un-supreme-leader-like squeak, followed closely by a choked up giggle as he starts to wiggle wildly, trying to push Kaito away with his other leg, kicking blindly. 

Kaito waits for him to calm down, wary lilac eyes following his every move with evident suspicion. Kaito smile softens, and then he leans in and presses a gentle, feather-like kiss to the patch of milky pale skin right below the slender curve of Kokichi’s ankle. A sharp intake of breath somewhere above him sends a spark of satisfaction through his veins, spurring him to continue. His lips travel lower, planting more kisses, chaste and tender, so light they’re barely even there.

Eventually, Kaito straightens up, lips stretching in a self-satisfied grin. His finger curls around the long strand of hair that frames Kokichi’s face, tugging at it playfully, and he leans closer to plant one last kiss on his mouth, sweet and slow, the kind that never fails to leave Kokichi breathless once it ends. They separate as soon as he feels Kokichi start to reciprocate the kiss, his lips chasing after him when Kaito pulls away, leaning back.

“If you have to know, you would make a pretty shitty astronaut yourself,” he informs him cheekily, reaching for his previously abandoned book. He stands up, turning to leave the room, not even waiting for a response.

Kokichi blinks, stunned into silence, a brightly colored blush spilling over his face slowly. It takes him a moment to snap out of the post-kiss haze and he jumps to his feet. 

“Hey!” He calls out after Kaito, the deep pout audible in his voice as he gives chase. “I’ll have you know that I would make an amazing astronaut! Much better than an idiot like you!”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Magic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here?”
> 
> Kaito whirls around, the sword he’s been cleaning precisely for the past few minutes almost slipping out of his still slippery with blood and sweat hand. He finds himself face to face with a pair of sharp lilac eyes, staring at him with just a hint of annoyance, eyebrows pulled in a frown. 
> 
> Kokichi Ouma’s always been somewhat of an enigma, obnoxious and loathsome, but sharp as an arrow and fast as a bullet in the heat of the battle, casting illusions left and right, saving their asses more often than Kaito would have liked. They never got along well, he and Kokichi, but he’s been a valuable ally, his unique brand of magic an essential element of many of their strategies. 
> 
> “Uh,” says Kaito unintelligibly, surprised by his sudden appearance. By now everyone should have retracted to their tents, getting whatever rest they could before the feast. “I was just leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: injuries

**You can find this fic[here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754287).**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't any specific AU, I just had this scene in my head and needed to get it out. It's a little rushed and I can't say that I'm very happy with it but hopefully it's still enjoyable. Thank you for reading!


	4. Fake Dating AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito tries to do the right thing. It backfires. Kind of.

It’s a day like any other typical day, the sun shining over people’s heads, trees throwing long shadows over the pavement, birds twittering charmingly and everything seems to go just as it’s supposed to do. That is, of course, until Momota enters a coffee shop he had a habit of visiting after his classes when he was in a desperate need of some caffeine in his system and all and any traces of normalcy go out of the window with the speed of a soaring bullet.

He pushes the door of the coffee shop open, breathing in the rich scent of freshly ground coffee and sweet pastries which were lined up behind the glass. He taps his shoulder bag where it rests against his hip, feeling the hard covers of his books poking out through the thick material. Nothing like studying in his favorite coffee shop. He had approximately three hours before he had to leave for his training session with Shuichi and Harumaki and with finals quickly approaching he had no time to waste. 

He heads for the counter, not sparing even a single glance at the menu, knowing exactly what he wants based off the many times he’s been here before. He’s about to order but just as he opens his mouth to do so, he gets distracted by the hushed voices of two girls huddled behind the counter, partly obscured by the display of muffins and decorative mugs with motivational slogans that sound just like something out of Momota’s endless stock of inspirational speeches reserved for his sidekicks and anyone who would listen. 

“Poor guy,” one of them shakes her head solemnly, the long ponytail bouncing around her shoulders with every shake. “He’s been here for over an hour now…”

“I know,” the other girl sighs in agreement, biting her lip with visible distress. “I feel so bad for him. This is so unfair. I wish we could do something, you know.” 

She looks sympathetically over Momota’s shoulder, staring at someone behind his back. Curious, he turns his head, following her gaze over the heads of all the other customers seated in the small coffee shop until at last it lands on a suspiciously familiar nest of dark, nearly black hair, tainted with little specks of purple at the tips. 

“Oh,” he exhales, eyes going round and wide when the sight finally registers. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Kokichi Ouma got… stood up? 

Momota’s brows screw in a surprised scowl as his brain goes into an overdrive, trying to make some sense out of the scene before him. 

It’s somewhat bizarre to see Ouma in a non-school habitat, his clown-like costume replaced by a black shirt adorned with little white buttons that makes him look uncharacteristically fancy when compared to his everyday clothes. He occupies a small round table and steals occasional glances at the wall hanging on the wall opposite of him and at the door, his childlike face pulled in a frown that looks weirdly out of place on him. Or maybe Momota is just too used to his shit-eating grins.

He and Ouma never really got along well but it doesn’t change the fact that he still feels a painful tug at his heart when he thinks about how shitty it must feel to get stood up in a public place by some asshole with no common courtesy or manners. 

The girls at the counter continue to talk but their voices fade into an indistinguishable murmur as he tries to process this new piece of information.

No matter what there was between him and Ouma, the guy certainly didn’t deserve to be stood up like that. As much as Maki insisted that the little gremlin has no heart to speak of Momota finds this theory very unlikely, especially from the scientific point of view. 

Besides, Ouma or not, he’s a hero. 

He’s Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars! He won’t let anyone be pitied like that. 

With a new-found resolve, he turns to the two girls and beams at them, interrupting their discussion as if he’s been a part of it from the start, not even bothering to pretend he hasn’t been eavesdropping.

“Oh, this guy?” he asks with pretend nonchalance, gesturing to Ouma with his thumb, his voice booming over the quiet noise of the conversations and machines of the coffee shop, startling both girls. “I’m with him.”

One of the girls stares at him with something that could only be described as stunned scepticism, visibly taken aback by the sudden interruption, but the other girl’s eyes grow wide and she turns to stare at him, hopeful. “Eh? Really?”

“Really,” Momota beams at her, “I am a bit late ‘cause I had to help my grandparents but I’m here now.”

The girl seems to be so overwhelmed with happiness that she bounces in place and clasps her hands happily, forgetting herself momentarily. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” she lets out a small giggle and then seems to remember that she’s talking to a customer. “Ah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I don’t…I’m so sorry, it’s none of my business,” she stammers, a bright blush flaming her cheeks as she raises her eyes, looking at him bashfully. 

Momota waves his hand dismissively, smiling at her encouragingly. “Nah, don’t worry about that.”

“It’s just… I was stood up once,” she confesses quietly, her voice dropping to a quiet hush, barely above a whisper. Her face scrunches up in discomfort at the memory. “I… I never want to go through something like that. So when I saw your date I felt really sorry for him. I even thought about bringing him some cake. On the house, of course.”

Momota almost protests when she refers to Ouma as his date but manages to bite his tongue in time, masking the grimace of pain with a shaky smile, one that the girl hesitantly reciprocates. 

“No worries,” he reassures her confidently. “It just means your heart is in the right place!”

The waitress fidgets nervously, blushing harder. She reminds him of Shuichi from their early days at the Academy.

“Oh… Um, if you say so?”

“Anyways, I’ll just have some coffee and then I’m gonna join him.”

He places his order and moments later he marches through the length of the coffee shop, mug in hand and a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey,” he greets Ouma unceremoniously once he finally reaches his table and then plops on the chair across from Ouma without waiting for a response. With one quick glance to confirm that no one’s listening, he leans in closer, voice dropping conspiratorially: “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered. The girls at the counter said you got stood up, so I told them I’m with you. No need to thank me.”

Now, Momota knew that technically Ouma never asked for his help but he still feels perfectly justified in his disappointment when instead of expressing his undying gratitude, Ouma lets out a loud overly dramatic sigh and drums his fingers on the table, nose wrinkling in irritation.

“Of course Momota-chan would ruin my plans,” he complains grumpily, shooting him the dirtiest glare and slumping in his chair with a deep pout.

“Uh…” Momota blinks at him dumbly. “What?”

“Nothing, Momota-chan. You’ve done enough.”

“What the hell, dude? I’m doing you a favour here!”

“My hero,” replies Ouma dryly. 

Momota huffs through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the small plastic chair that squeaks beneath his weight in response.

“Seriously, what’s your deal? I just tried to be a nice fucking person.”

“Your _favour_ means no dessert for me,” Ouma sniffs loudly, wiping his nose in the long sleeves of his shirt, an action that makes Momota shudder in disgust. “And I was reaaally looking forward to it, too!”

The astronaut’s frown deepens, lips pressed together in a thin line. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I wanted that dessert, Momota-chan!” wails Ouma, slamming his small fists against the table. Briefly, Momota thinks that it’s hard to take him seriously when he acts like a child throwing a goddamn tantrum over a piece of cake that’s probably not even as good as it looks on the promotional picture.

And then it finally clicks.

“Wait...” he starts carefully, the realization dawning on him slowly. He directs an incredulous stare at Ouma. “Wait, so what you’re trying to say is that you pretended to be stood up on just to make those girls at the counter feel sorry for you and get… _a free cake?!_ ”

Ouma pouts, jerking his head in a quick nod. 

“You deprived me of my dessert so now you have to pay the highest price. I’ve already contacted my assassins and they are getting ready for an ambush as we speak. I’d say bye to my loved ones if I was you. Oh, wait,” he pauses for a second, eyes growing theatrically wide as if he’s just realized something and then he giggles gleefully, batting his eyelashes at his classmate flirtatiously. “You have no loved ones. Wow, tough life, Momo-chan.”

Momota throws his arms out into the air in a giving up gesture, a deep scowl etched on his features. “Fine! I’ll buy you that damn dessert, geez.” 

The tears vanish from Ouma’s eyes as if they were never there and he tilts his head to the side, blinking at Momota innocently.

“Ooohh? Momota-chan will buy me a cake?”

“Yes, Momota- _kun_ will buy you a cake! If that’s what it takes to shut you up then I’m gonna get you that stupid cake.” Momota reaches for his wallet and wrestles it out from his bag and then strides to the counter without another word. Minutes later he’s back with his order, a considerable piece of strawberry cheesecake, mousse flowing down the delicate cake, little strawberries perched on top of it.

With a smug expression he puts it right before Ouma. “Happy now?”

Ouma’s eyes gleam on the other side of the small round table, transfixed on the sugary treat before him as if it’s some kind of insatiable rarity and not one of the most common cakes that you can buy at literally every corner. He reaches out for the dessert greedily, pulling the small plate closer impatiently. With an almost devout caution he cuts into the cake using his fork. However, before he could bite into it, he squints at Momota suspiciously, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“How can I know that you didn’t poison it?”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Momota snaps at him, no longer in the mood to entertain Ouma’s nonsense. “Eat the goddamn cake, you asshole!”

“Nishishi, now I know that you poisoned it,” informs him Ouma cheerfully and finally takes a bite, shoving it into his awaiting mouth with so much force that Momota winces at the sound of his teeth clinking against the fork. He swallows it all at once, too, a pleased expression dawning over his face. Momota’s pretty sure he didn’t even taste it. 

“So?” he asks after a moment, letting Ouma take another bite and eyeing him curiously. ”How is it?”

Ouma’s busy stuffing his mouth with more cake but he pauses to look up at him, swallowing the piece already in his mouth and smacking his lips obnoxiously. He gives him a small shrug.

“Eh. Could have been better.” 

“What?! Come on, you are practically gonna choke if you keep up eating like that and you tell me that it could have been _better_?” 

“That’s exactly what I said, Momota-chan,” observes Ouma, amused.

Momota grits his teeth and without thinking reaches out to grab Ouma’s arm, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist.

“Hey! Eww, Momota-chan, keep your dirty gross hands away from me.”

Ouma’s protests fall on deaf ears. Momota simply pulls his hand closer over the table and directs his fork to his mouth, stealing a bite of his cake. 

“Hmm,” muses Momota, swallowing, the sugary taste spilling over his tongue. Maybe a bit too sweet, he decides eventually, but it’s not bad. 

Not bad at all. 

“You’re just acting like a little shit, it’s really goo— Uh. Ouma? What is it?”

He stops mid-sentence when he catches sight of Ouma’s expression, his dusted with an angry blush pink cheeks and glassy, unblinking eyes, staring at Momota in mute surprise. 

“Ouma?”

Before he could respond, a new voice chimes in.

“Um… excuse me?”

Momota raises his gaze only to see the girl from before.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to say that you’re a lovely couple,” declares the girl, pulling the tray closer to her chest and averting her gaze shyly. 

“Oh?” Asks Ouma sweetly, finally snapping out of whatever trance he was under seconds before her arrival and raising one of his eyebrows in a perfect arch. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes and when he reaches out his arm over the table to intertwine their fingers together, Momota briefly realizes that he’s never been more scared in his life. “We are, aren’t we?”

The girl nods her head enthusiastically. 

“Again, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I hope you enjoyed our cake? I’ve seen you share it.”

Ouma flashes her a brilliant smile, the one Momota’s seen way too many people fall for before, blissfully unaware that beneath his inconspicuous mask lies a ruthless monster that’ll stop at nothing to get whatever he wants. 

“Oh, it was absolutely delightful,” his voice drips sugar. “Best cake we ever had, isn’t that right, Momota-chan?”

Momota fidgets in his seat. “Uh.. yeah, sure. What he said.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Enjoy your cake.”

The girl graces them with one last warm smile, bowing quickly before she hurries back to the counter. 

“Momota-chan really is cruel.”

Momota scowls, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling defensive. “The hell are you talking about, dude?”

“Lying to this poor girl,” Ouma licks his fork, cleaning it from the traces of cake frosting. “I bet it’d break her heart if she knew we’re not a thing.”

“Oh, shut up. I really hope you at least enjoyed that damn cake ‘cuz I definitely didn’t sign up for that.”

“Eh, I told ya already. It’s fine. A free one still would have been better, though.”

“Oh my… oh my GOD! Are you seriously still gonna b—What the hell is wrong with you, dude? I paid for it!”

Ouma nods his head vigorously, planting his hands at the back of his head and sending Momota a shit-eating grin that never fails to make his blood boil. He doesn’t know why he even still bothers with coffee when he can always count on Ouma raising his blood pressure. “Exactly! I don’t need anything paid by Momo-chan’s dirty money.”

“Great ‘cause I’m not planning to spend even a cent more on you, ever!”

“Then I guess I can keep it, right?” questions Ouma, pulling something out from under the table. ”Maybe Momota-chan isn’t as useless as I thought.”

It takes him a second too long to realize that what he’s waving before his eyes tauntingly is his own wallet. 

“What th—? When did ya—?! You just said you don’t want my dirty money!”

Ouma bares his teeth in a smile that looks way too predatory for Momota’s liking.

“You know, you should be more careful, Momota-chan. It’s irresponsible to just leave your wallet like that in the open, someone could take it.”

“You little—!”

“Oh my, look at the time!” Ouma makes a show of stealing a look at his watch-less wrist. “Gotta go! Buh-bye!”

And with that Ouma bolts out of the coffee shop, leaving Momota staring at the empty space occupied by the purple gremlin barely a few seconds ago. It takes a few more seconds for his brain to catch up and then he jumps to his feet and rushes after him, nearly colliding with Akamatsu and Harukawa who enter the coffee shop at the same time, his roaring voice startling some of the customers, heads lifting in search of the source of the noise. 

“Woah, careful ther—Wait, wasn’t that Momota-kun?” Akamatsu blinks after his quickly moving away figure, startled by their near collision.

Harukawa shrugs simply in a typical Harukawa fashion, not even sparing a single glance at Akamatsu and heading straight to the counter, asking for the blackest coffee they have to offer.

“And I think I saw Ouma-kun…” continues Akamatsu, still staring at the door and gnawing at her lip nervously. “I hope they aren’t doing anything stupid. Again.” 

“Let them be stupid,” murmurs Harukawa, reaching for her wallet. “That’s what they do. You want cake with that coffee?”

“Ah… I suppose you’re right,” agrees Akamatsu, turning to smile at her. “And yes, thank you.”

They both settle down in the far corner of the coffee shop to enjoy a quiet moment while halfway across the town a very breathless trainee astronaut finally catches up with a midget supreme leader and pins him against the wall only to find out that he lost his wallet during the chase. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I try to write humor 😂


	5. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito and Kokichi deal with their problems like the adults they supposedly are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by two of [these](https://alphabetaus.tumblr.com/post/159701728845/do-you-have-any-expecting-parentsparents-with-a) prompts.

Kaito was well aware that having a baby meant changes and sacrifices, sometimes even turning your entire life upside down without any sense of consideration or mercy. 

He thought he was ready. He thought he could handle it. He thought his love would be strong enough to go against any kind of trouble. After all, it’s not that big of a deal, right? 

_Wrong._

By the time he wakes up to the earsplitting screaming — that only infants were capable of — for the ninth time this week (and it’s only Wednesday!) he can practically feel all hope fleeing his body and seriously begins to consider submitting to the cruel fate and accept that he’ll never get a full night’s sleep ever again.

He blinks up against the darkness, for a moment just staring at the ceiling looming above him and wondering when it all went so wrong, where he made the mistake. As with most things with life, he chooses to blame Kokichi. It’s practical. Recommended even, at least according to Maki. And definitely logical, considering that his husband’s been practically chaos personified. 

“‘Kichi,” he whispers harshly, turning over to nudge the Kokichi-sized pile of human, pillows and bedsheets next to him. “She’s awake again.”

The pile lets out the most pitiful sound Kaito’s ever heard, a half-groan, half-whine, and a lone eye peaks from between the sheets, still clouded with sleep but awake enough to leer at him accusingly. As if it’s all his fault! Kaito almost sputters at the audacity.

“It’s your child before before seven o’clock in the morning,” informs him the pile grumpily. 

Kaito snorts. He grasps the edge of the sheets and in one swift movement pries it away, exposing a very miserable and very annoyed Kokichi, dark and matted dark strands of unwashed hair sticking in every direction and a deep, displeased scowl painted on his face. He looks utterly ridiculous and Kaito swallows down the laugh that threatens to slip from between his lips. 

“I thought you are supposed to be the night owl of this family. Back in the Academy you’d barely ever go to sleep before like, three in the morning.”

“That was before we had a screamer,” Kokichi buries his face in the pillow and lets out a low groan into it, the sound muffled by the soft material. He clutches the pillow in a vice-like grip and refusing to let go, even when Kaito starts to poke his ribs. Cruel bastard, thinks Kokichi with a considerable amount of spite. He had people beheaded for less than that. 

“Maybe we could… play for it?” Kaito suggests eventually when another minute passes — and Kokichi lands a kick against his groin in an attempt to make him leave his ribs — with none of them making a move to rescue their baby girl from a wet diaper or vicious clutches of a nightmare. 

Kokichi lifts up his head, suddenly dead serious. Kaito tries very hard not to laugh at the faint imprint of his pillow outlined on his face. “You have my attention.”

“Yeah,” Kaito nods, enthusiastic now that Kokichi seems to be interested. “We could play a game and whoever loses goes to take care of this.”

“What kind of game?”

“Dunno,” Kaito offers a half-shrug, eyebrow furrowing in thought, face scrunching up as he sorts through the possible options. “How about rock paper scissors?”

Kokichi perks up.

“Ohohoho,” he bares his teeth in a wide smile, a dangerous glint flashing through his eyes. “Does my beloved want to lose _that_ badly?”

Kaito fidgets in place, suddenly sweating. “You know what, on second thou—”

“Too late!” Kokichi declares cheerfully, voice dripping with sweetness. “You can’t take it back now!”

Kaito drags a hand over his face, messing his hair up even more. “Fine, let’s do it. Let’s play rock, paper, scissors to see who has to go calm down the baby. Before our neighbours call the police for child abuse.” 

Kokichi has the nerve to clap his hands, way too chirpy for such an ungodly hour. “Glad that we’re dealing with this like adults!”

“Yeah, sure,” murmurs Kaito, placing one hand flat out in front of him, palm up, the other one curled in a fist. 

Kokichi cracks his knuckles and with a brilliant smile on his face mirrors his position. 

“Ready?”

“Ready!” Kokichi sing-songs. He starts, “One…”

“...Two…” Kaito continues, his eyes not leaving Kokichi’s face. 

“...Three!” they call in perfect unison, throwing their shapes at the same time. 

“Huh.” Kaito blinks down at their choices, surprised. “It’s a tie.”

He bumps Kokichi’s rock with his own and sighs. “Let’s try again.”

“Sure~! Ready when you are!”

The game goes on, both of them once again throwing the same shape until eventually Kaito’s scissors lose against Kokichi’s sneakily chosen rock. 

“You cheated,” accuses Kaito childishly when Kokichi grins at him triumphantly, unable to fight down the pout that crawls up on his own face. “I demand a rematch.”

“You can’t cheat at rock paper scissors.”

Kaito huffs, eyebrows wrinkling.

“I’m sure you found a way. You can’t be trusted when it comes to games,” he murmurs, indignant. 

Kokichi turns to him, slowly, his face grave.

The red blaring sign that pops up in Kaito’s head says RUN! and he feels strangely inclined to take its advice.

“Kaito. The love of my life. My darling. My beloved. The brightest star in my dark, empty life. My reason to live.”

He goes pale. Abort mission, abort mission, _abortmissionabortmi—_

“If you don’t haul your ass up and go take care of the greatest joy of my life this instant I am going to make you regret the day you were born. I am going to unleash hell and prove once and for all how I’ve earned my Ultimate title. Don’t test me, Kaito. My love for you won’t save you.”

Kaito swallows thickly, fear curling low in his gut and wrapping around his organs in a steel, unforgiving grip. 

“So, uh, yeah… I-I’m gonna check up on her,” he stammers awkwardly, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed as if to put some distance between them. 

Kokichi smiles brightly.

“Yes, you do that~!”

Kaito’s head jerks in a nod and he scrambles out of the bed, almost tripping over his own two feet, and hurries out of the room as if he was being chased. 

Half a minute later Kokichi sighs contently when the shrieking noise of their first born finally quiets, chased away by the sweet lulling voice coming from the other room, and he slowly falls down on his pillow, allowing the sheets to swallow him up in their warm embrace. He wraps the blanket around his narrow shoulders and nuzzles his nose into his husband’s pillow, the traces of his scent still lingering. Seconds later, he’s already asleep, a small smile gracing his lips. He doesn’t even stir when Kaito, after a one diaper change, two lullabies and four nose kisses, tip toes back into the room, their daughter curled up against his chest. Soundlessly, he slips under the blanket next to Kokichi, leaning in to press a small, fond kiss against the crown of his head. 

By the time his head hits the pillow he’s already asleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me trying to write humor again :'D I must say that writing humor is always very challenging for me but this was really fun! I hope you enjoyed reading it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ❤ If you enjoyed it please consider leaving a comment!


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